


Being on Time is Overrated

by Audity



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Eating habits, For once E and R did something right, M/M, Possible second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audity/pseuds/Audity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire should be late more often if it means Enjolras makes confessions such as this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being on Time is Overrated

**Author's Note:**

> I blame An for this whole fic it's all her fault.

Enjolras’s eating habits were something the Amis constantly had conversations about. They’d ask Combeferre if he’d had breakfast, turn to Courf to see if he’d stopped studying long enough to eat lunch, and go back to Combeferre for a check on dinner.

It wasn’t as if Enjolras didn’t eat at all, he just didn’t eat much. Though, if the group of friends went out to eat, they all knew he’d get a good meal, even if he didn’t actually order anything. They’d walk into some fancy ass restaurant, sit down and order drinks (coffee for Enjolras), and eventually they’d all come to some conclusion as to what they were each going to order.

Except Enjolras. He’d pass as the waitress looked at him, and all his friends would groan and try to order something for him, at which point he’d glare at them and make them shut up. From there, they’d discuss plans for a rally, or Courfeyrac would start up a conversation about something strange he swore happened on his way to class earlier, or they’d all watch as Grantaire riled up their fearless leader. The latter of the three was always the most amusing for the rest of the group.

Skip forward to the food arriving. After some deliberation of who had ordered what (Bossuet swearing he hadn’t ordered this, and Joly assuring him that, yes, he had) they’d all settle down and there would be little talk until all of them managed to make a sizeable dent in their food, Enjolras helping along the way.

He’d reach over to Ferre’s plate, stealing a bite of green beans, or over to Bahorel’s and grab the bite of steak he’d just sawed off the larger piece. He’d grab some corn from Jehan, and a bite of potatoes off Feuilly’s plate, and it would continue in this manner until Enjolras felt sufficiently full, and had gotten Joly’s nod of approval to say that he’d eaten enough.

The first night that Enjolras did not fall in line with this routine, they knew something was either horribly wrong, or something had gone completely and utterly right. The former seemed the obvious choice as Enjolras was slouched in his seat, his hair falling farther over his face more than usual, and he had his arms crossed over him.

“Grantaire’s gonna be late,” Courfeyrac said, looking up from his phone before returning it to his  pocket. If anyone noticed the way Enjolras looked up at the sound of Grantaire’s name, they didn’t comment.

As the waitress came round, Everyone ordered their customary drinks, whether it be coffee, soda, tea, or water, Enjolras only ordering his coffee after noticing the glare Combeferre was giving him. Despite the fact that Enjolras rarely participated in the conversations anyway, the mood was slightly subdued, despite all of Courf’s various efforts to make the group laugh, or at least crack a smile. (One of these methods was to tickle Jehan until Jehan threatened to read the dirty poetry he wrote for Courfeyrac out loud should he not stop.)

While Enjolras pretended to crack a smile at the fact his friends were trying so hard to make him feel better, he still hid behind his crossed arms and fly away hair until the food came, at which point his friends became more worried when after a number of minutes Enjolras hadn’t tried to steal anything off any of their plates. Joly offered him a bite of his burger, and Ferre a handful of French fries, but he accepted none of the offers, and found himself wishing Grantaire was there, even if they’d only wind up arguing.

At some point the friends sitting around the table all sat their respective dining utensils down, all of them turning to face Enjolras.

Looking up at them, Enjolras brushed his hair out of his face, and muttered, “What?”

“Among other things,” Combeferre began, “you’re usually on your second cup of coffee, if not third, at this point, and you’ve barely made a dent in your first.”

“And you’ve taken none of us up on our offer to feed you so you don’t wither away to nothing,” Jehan added.

Enjolras shrugged, Feuilly holding back his comment about how he looked like a teenager who hadn’t gotten the latest model of phone for their birthday. “Not hungry, I guess.”

Bahorel barked out a laugh. “The revolutionary who barely eats as it is isn’t hungry. I believe it.”

“You are aware you can tell us anything, correct?” Jehan asked, completely sincere, though he was rarely anything but that.

Sighing, Enjolras sat up a little straighter and nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

‘Walking in now,’ was what the text from Grantaire read when Courfeyrac picked up his phone. When Courf looked up after he heard the bell ring, he held up his pointer finger, signalling for Grantaire to wait by the door until further notice. (Grantaire, being the ass that he was, may have moved closer to the table than the door of the restaurant, but if Courf noticed he didn’t say anything.)

The rest of the Amis continued to stare down Enjolras as he continued to (barely) sip his coffee.

“Are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Combeferre finally asked, turning to look directly at Enjolras.

Sighing loudly, Enjolras sat down his cup and ran his hands over his face, saying quieTly, “I think I’m in love with R.”

Had Enjolras been paying attention he would have heard Courfeyrac mutter, “Fucking finally.”

And while not everyone heard Enjolras’s monumental confession, Grantaire, who’d been taking small steps closer to the table, was one of the ones who did, and promptly felt as if he was going to fall over. Swallowing, he took one more step towards Enjolras before a whispered, “What?” came out of his mouth.

“Shit.” Enjolras turned around in his chair, vowing to always sit so he was facing the door from now on. “You,” he made vague gesturing movements at Grantaire, “heard that?”

Not trusting his voice, Grantaire nodded, debating whether or not he should run away or stay where he was. The decision was made for him when Enjolras stood up and ran away instead. Grantaire looked at his friends, eyes wide.

“Go after him, dipshit!” Courfeyrac yelled after a pause.

“Right. Okay.” Turning around, Grantaire took a couple steps before he found his footing, heading towards the back of the restaurant where he’d seen Enjolras head. He pushed open the bathroom door, swearing when Enjolras wasn’t in there. Heading to the end of the short hallway, Grantaire felt a blast of outside air, and turned to the back door of the restaurant and heard it click shut. “That way then.”

Enjolras, for his part, wasn’t actually glad he had run away, but he wasn’t about to go back in and have to face the fact that the first person he thought he might actually love would reject him in a heartbeat because all Enjolras did was yell at him and berate him for all the things he did wrong, drinking heavy among them and god Enjolras wasn’t even sure why Grantaire even hung around them all because Enjolras was such an ass.

Seeing the blonde head turn away from the door as he opened it, Grantaire stepped out into the back alley, trying to find words that wouldn’t make him sound like an idiot. Eventually, he simply settled on, “Hey,” and took a few steps closer to Enjolras.

“Hey,” Enjolras repeated, looking between his feet and his hands.

“Is that all we’re going to say?” Grantaire asked, a half smile gracing his features, taking another few steps when he was convinced Enjolras wasn’t about to rocket out the end of the alley.

Grantaire was now close enough that if he stretched a little bit, Enjolras could reach out and touch him. Not that he wanted to. Even though he did. Enjolras shrugged. “It’s easy.”

“Do you want to repeat what you said in the restaurant?” Grantaire asked quietly, struggling to meet Enjolras’s eyes. “At least, if you promise not to run away again.”

Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. “Not really,” he said, pulling a halfway apologetic face.

“Please?” Grantaire needed to know that he hadn’t hallucinated. “I just need to make sure I heard what I heard.” He took a last step towards Enjolras. “That I’m not getting my hopes up for nothing.”

“W-what,” Enjolras stuttered. “You mean, when I said, um, what I said, you were, you were hopeful?”

“I was ready to throw myself down in front of you right there.” Grantaire smiled a bit. “You running off put a bit of a dent in those plans.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure he was breathing properly. “So we could happen?” He felt like a lovestruck teenager, but he was beyond caring.

“Can I kiss you?” Grantaire asked, in lieu of answering Enjolras’s question.

Enjolras let out a near hysterical laugh. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard all night, and Courf was saying some pretty weird things earlier. Of course you can kiss me.”

“Good,” Grantaire breathed, “because I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.” Reaching forward, Grantaire cupped Enjolras’s chin in the palm of his hand, and bringing their bodies close together, pressed his lips to the other man’s, and Enjolras could have sworn he heard him say, “God damn, Apollo,” before Enjolras moved his hands to Grantaire’s hips to pull them closer and press his lips harder against Grantaire’s to deepen the kiss.

After a time which was too short for either of them, Grantaire pulled back slowly. “The rest of them will be wondering where we are,” he whispered.

“Do we have to?” Enjolras asked, pressing his lips to Grantaire’s again.

Grantaire smiled against Enjolras and laughed quietly. “I’ll buy you dinner,” he offered, wrapping his hand around Enjolras’s and pressing a kiss to his forehead before he began to pull Enjolras gently back towards the restaurant. “You know, if I hadn’t been late, you never would have said that,” he mused as he pulled open the back door. “We’d have sat and argued the whole time just as we usually do.”

“Sometimes being on time is overrated."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oops I think they're all OOC, but not too bad. E is lovestruck and completely inexperienced anyway I'll blame it on that. Thanks for reading, as always, and I might add on a second or third chapter depending on how well this one does, but they'd all just be slightly different continuations of this verse.


End file.
